Devil With a Shotgun
by Pretia Libertatis
Summary: For the greater portion of her life, Elizabeth Keen had a guardian angel watching over her. The angel was no angel. The angel was a devil by the name of Raymond Reddington. Based on Angel With a Shotgun by The Cab.
1. Here With Me

**Author's Note:** Yeah, I'm back with another fanfiction. Unlike my other ventures, I can assure my readers that I will try to keep updates on this as frequent as possible. I am unsure of how long this will end up being, but I write each chapter out by hand before typing it up so I can try to work out errors. This story does not have a beta, so all errors are my own.

The title of this fic is based on "Angel With a Shotgun" by the Cab and I recommend giving it a listen. I will be posting separate oneshots of an explicit nature set in this universe, so be on the lookout for those. Anyway, on with the story.

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><p><strong>Here With Me<strong>

Dim sunlight accompanied the harsh alarm that jolted Liz to consciousness. She sat upright in bed and instinctively reached for the handgun under the pillow. Heart pounding, she repeatedly hit the snooze button on the clock at her bedside. The covers were pushed down as she extracted herself from the plush warmth offered by the bed. Staying into a hotel suite was an improvement from the motels she frequented for the past months. Setting the gun on the dresser below the TV, brown hair fell over her shoulder as she opened one of the drawers. She pulled her deep purple camisole over her head and set to her morning routine. With so much uncertainty in her life, she had found that there was some comfort to continuing her routine. She buttoned her slacks as a familiar ringtone broke the momentary silence.

"He'll call back if he really needs anything," she murmured, knowing the caller far too well.

Liz mused at how her perceptions of Red had changed over the course of a single year. Gone were the moments of guessing his every move, trying to search for reasoning behind each action. She had changed since she was with Mobile Psych, even more since she lived in Baltimore. She had trouble recognizing the woman in pictures only taken two years prior, when she and Tom were both smiling. Her morals were clear, directing her to view cases in different lights. The task force, for all the good it hoped to do, conflicted with her personal ethics. There was a bottom line that never factored in the good that suspects did for the public. Sighing, she went to the wardrobe and pulled a blouse off its hanger. She put the blouse on, buttoned it, and pulled a sweater over her head. The argyle pattern complemented the color of the top and covered her forearms, allowing her to roll up her sleeves. Similarly patterned socks were hidden in a pair of ankle boots before Liz crossed her suite.

The vibration in the pocket of her slacks alerted her to a phone call and she accepted the waiting call. Ressler's clipped tones filled her ear and she fought a wince.

"Keen, we got a lead. They asked for you personally," he said.

Liz gritted her teeth, plastered a smile on her face, and responded, "Just heading out now. I'll be there in ten."

The other agent sighed. "Try getting here in five."

She ended the call with measured finality and pocketed her phone and room key. Clouded apprehension tugged at the back of her mind as she grabbed her coat off the back of a chair. The suspicion that joined the growing uncertainty, though near constants, concerned Liz. _When paranoia is a constant, perhaps choosing a different career path gains importance_ she thought as a look of measured disgust crossed her face. She knew better than most the sheer amount of risk inherent in one's life. Scanning the room once more, Liz turned off the lights as she made her way to the door. Brisk air greeted her she pulled the door closed behind her, walking into the Washington day.

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><p>Liz pushed the remaining apprehension and suspicion to the back of her mind as she parked her car. The issued Charger, identical to cars issued to detectives, blended in with the typical Washington traffic and saved her the cost of purchasing her own car. The current atmosphere created something dangerous and unrelenting, much like the hardest cases with Mobile Psych. Her forehead met the top of her steering wheel and she took the keys out of the ignition. Thoughts raced in her head as she unbuckled her seat belt and pushed the door open. Liz spent moments questioning the largely predictable direction of her thoughts. Her father, a mystery for most of her life, was closer than she imagined.<p>

"The Warrior Gene," she mused, her tone foreign to her own ears.

Her life had turned upside down and lost any resemblance of what she once knew. There was once a time when she knew herself and knew Sam, the man that had raised her with no assistance. Liz leaned against her car door before her lips parted in a sigh. No matter how often the thought of taking leave crossed her mind, she knew it wasn't a possibility. The job had consumed her life and upended the one that she had known. With another sigh, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and straightened. The Post Office loomed above her, hard and unforgiving in a way that harkened back to high school. The faintest hint of a chuckle escaped her as she clipped her badge to the collar of her blouse.

Squaring her shoulders, she entered the access code to call the elevator. The black site was practically a second home, one of the most stable homes in the past few months. Liz shook her head at the thought even as the truth ate at her. Tom had laid waste to the remaining sense of normalcy she allowed herself and destroyed two years of her life. Normalcy came in the form of a wanted criminal and the dangerous criminals he tracked. The doors of the elevator closed once she stepped inside, the sickly yellow light illuminating the car. Liz clasped her hands behind her back and cast her gaze up to the ceiling as she waited for the elevator to stop. The car shuddered and jostled as the metal gates rose, revealing the agents of the task force.

"You're late, Agent Keen," Cooper said.

Liz bristled at the tone before she responded, "Won't happen again, sir. Ressler called saying we had a lead?"

Ressler stepped forward, hands clasped in front of him. "Actually, the lead came through Aram. There's been development of sorts in Manhattan. Reddington wants you to join him at the Essex House."

Suspicious, she looked between the agents and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. Opening the message she had received, Liz scanned the words and realized that the message contained information for a flight that evening from Dulles to LaGuardia. Liz pushed a hand through her hair and slid her phone back into her pocket once she had fully read the message. The prospect of having to follow a lead in New York was thrilling. While she loved Washington, New York was one of her favorite cities.

Setting her gaze on Cooper once more, she quirked a brow and asked, "Is there anything else you need from me?"  
>Her biggest use to the task force, though she doubted any of her colleagues would mention it, was the fact that Red was her partner. The implication of her phrasing was once shocking, yet there was no use in denying the truth. She was only a profiler and her field training had only be used on various occasions. Liz had a period of usefulness that was considerably numbered.<p>

"Some paperwork needs filing before you catch your flight," Cooper replied in seemingly even tones.

Liz shifted her bag on her shoulder and gave a quick nod before heading to her office. She felt Aram's gaze at the back and the faintest beginnings of a smile settled at the corners of her mouth. She and Aram worked well together, covering for one another on occasion and supporting each other. Ressler, whether or not he wanted to be more, merely existed as a colleague and barely as a partner. _Red is more of a steadfast partner _she thought. The hint of truth was undeniable and she opened the door of her office.

She leaned against the door to push it shut, effectively blocking out the rest of the task force from causing a disturbance. Liz's gaze landed on the small stack of files and paperwork cluttering the center of her desk. The presence of a file was new, although she had welcomed their appearance. She had learned that files divulged far more information than simple interrogations. Nothing was left to chance when files revealed every piece of information the task force required. These thoughts and musings circulated through her mind as she crossed the small distance to her desk. Remaining suspicion tugged at the back of her mind as she pushed the chair back with her foot.

"Just get this done and you can pack," she reminded herself as she sat in the chair.

She opened the file and her lips parted in surprise. Aram had provided her with information beyond her clearance level. She looked over the first page and swiftly closed the file before placing it in her back. She looked over the other pieces of paperwork and recalled the individual cases. The medical history and blood work that remained in her hotel room held more than she ever considered. Her birth father's identity had remained a mystery for the greater portion of her life. Shaking her head, she pushed her chair back and rose. She placed the paperwork in folders before picking up her bag and exiting her office.

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><p>Traffic around DuPont Circle never ceased to amaze her. Driving around traffic circles was simplistic, yet people always found the single way to complicate even the most basic of directions. Her fingers flexed against the steering wheel as she followed the street to the hotel. A permanent lodging grew inviting with each passing day. Hudson's absence had her missing solid companionship, but she knew that she had Reddington when she grew lonely <em>Still<em> she thought _a pet has certain benefits._ She loved the morning runs with Hudson, admiring the solace provided by the scarcity of people on her regular route. Tom was the only part of her life that she considered easy to replace.

"Bastard," she said under her breath as she pulled into the hotel parking lot.

Reaching into her back pocket, Liz pulled out her room key. Determination etched itself into her face as she shifted her bag onto her shoulder. She knew that going to New York with Reddington gave the task force necessary leads on criminals with specific sets of skills. So many issues hid under the surface of the social veneer of cities and communities. People committed atrocious crimes for little more than a personal attack. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind as she opened the door to her hotel room. She leaned against the wall once she crossed the threshold and closed the door with her foot.

"Lizzie, you have a plane to catch," Red commented, his voice breaking the fleeting silence.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So, that's it for the first chapter. I am participating in National Novel Writing Month, but I will endeavor to be consistent with these updates. Please read and review. Don't be shy about constructive criticism, it actually helps me.


	2. Planes Over New York

**Author's Note: **Terribly sorry about the delay in posting this chapter. While I am writing this fic by hand, I am also self-editing it and I didn't quite follow what I had written for this chapter. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about this one, I will say that. As a writer I am more willing to criticize my own work, so I'm going to let you guys decide whether or not you like this. I'm thankful for my girlfriend right now - she beta'd a portion of this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I wouldn't be worrying about loans if I owned The Blacklist.

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><p><strong>Planes Over New York<strong>

Her eyes snapped open as she locked gazes with Red. The Concierge of Crime, seated at the small table, tilted his head to the side. Liz breathed through her nose in an effort to calm herself. Before, she would have considered every possibility, right down to his methods used to gain entrance to her suite. Reddington's skills were remarkable and bordered on extraordinary. The profiler made her way over to the table before the presence of another key card caught her attention.

Liz tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and asked, "What did you tell them?"

He paused for a moment before he replied, "I only told them the truth, Lizzie. We will stay in the Essex House and you will take a 5:45 flight from Dulles to LaGuardia with a layover in Chicago."

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she rocked back on her heels and considered his earlier proposition. The flight had been paid, as had accommodations at the Essex House. Any hint of a lead, no matter how obscure or small, benefitted the task force. Liz shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat and sighed. Red held more information than she needed, specifically information that seemingly pertained to several aspects of her life.

"You're flying business class," she stated as a small smile quirked at the corners of her mouth.

The smile on his lips, the one that so strongly mirrored her own, did little to surprise her. "You're also flying business class," he countered with a satisfied smile.

Liz pressed a hand to her forehead before she nodded. A year had taught her not to question Red's activities or methods. Veiled answers and deflecting statements served as the basic layer of Raymond Reddington. She wanted to learn everything, yet she knew the benefit of keeping secrets. Things she'd never share with anyone, not even Red, swirled through her mind more often than she liked. Motioning to the door, Liz focused on Red.

"If you don't mind, I need to get packed. I'm assuming packing for a week is ideal," she commented.

Red rose from his seat and placed his fedora on his head. Straightening his vest, he countered, "Ideally, you will need a week and a half's worth of clothing. If the need for a dress arises, I know a guy."

Her lips parted in slight surprise before she shook her head, allowing herself a moment to chuckle. It shouldn't surprise her that he had a guy that knew dresses. "Now, please let me pack. If you're offering a ride to the airport as well, then wait outside." She countered as a pleased smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. She stepped aside as he walked past her, catching the heady scent that she only associated with him. The man, maddening as he was, had injected a sense of excitement back into her life. He'd turned her life upside down, made her question everything she knew about herself, yet she wondered why he hadn't situated himself into her life sooner. Leaning against the door, Liz brought a hand to her forehead and sighed.

"He really does think of everything," she said with some grudging respect toward the man.

She pushed a hand through her hair and crossed the distance to the rolling suitcase propped against the dresser. Going through the clothing in the suite, she extracted enough clothing for the anticipated period. She contemplated packing all of her clothes and checking out of the suite. She had paid for the suite through the end of the month, negotiating a price with the owner of the hotel. Eventually she would relocate to another hotel and continue the cycle, spending nights in a hotel before moving to another. She knew that purchasing an apartment provided a sense of security and great stability. Her ex-husband was still out there, as were any number of his handlers. Selecting articles of clothing, Liz folded them and placed them in the bottom of her suitcase. Going to the bathroom, she removed only essential toiletries and carried them back to her suitcase. She crossed the room again and grabbed her small backpack off the door handle. She had purchased the backpack when she was with Mobile Psych, wanting to have a bag that was easy to carry yet allowed her use of her hands. While the bag was small, it was large enough to fit any items that she wanted on the plane. Crossing her room again, she put three books and her iPod in her bag before returning to the dresser. She opened the drawer containing her undergarments and chose enough to last the duration of the trip. She placed the selected undergarments, along with two pairs of sensible shoes and sneakers, in her suitcase.

"Lizzie, are you almost done?" Red asked from the door.

Grumbling under her breath, Liz replied, "Give me one more minute and I'm ready."

She went to the bedside table without waiting for a response and opened the drawer. Pocketing the burner phone she had purchased, her hand closed around the last present she had received from Sam. The necklace, a silver chain with a diamond pendant, meant the world to Liz. She put it on, hiding the pendant under her sweater, and walked back to her suitcase. Her thoughts buzzed and memories resurfaced as she double-checked the items in her suitcase. She opened her backpack again and tucked her wallet in one of the outer pockets, making it easier to reach. She put her coat on and put both phones in the pockets of her jeans before lifting her suitcase off the bed. Putting her backpack on, once again thankful for its small size, she pulled on the handle of her suitcase and it gently rolled across the carpet. She turned the lights of the room off and opened the door to see Red smiling at her. "Come, he said. "We don't want to miss our flight."

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><p>Dulles was crowded, more crowded than Liz expected. Families held signs bearing names and words of celebration as they patiently waited for arrivals. Her hand tightened around the handle of her suitcase as she felt Red's hand on the small of her back. She watched as she slipped her boarding pass and ticket into the pocket of her coat. Her heart thudded in her chest at the prospect of arriving in Manhattan that night. New York City had been her home before and after Quantico, at least for a short time. The growing crowd of people as they progressed through the concourse diminished the space between Liz and Red. She fought the simple notion that Red's hand was pleasantly warm even as she felt it seeping through her coat.<p>

"How long do you think we'll be in the air?" she asked.

Red tapped his own boarding pass, the action genuinely his own, and explained, "Typically, flights with layovers last longer than non-stop flights. The longest part of this flight is going to be the layover, approximately lasting two hours."

The corners of Liz's mouth quirked up in a smile before she nodded in understanding. Flying granted her the opportunity to travel and visit places she held close to her heart. Connecting flights rarely factored into traveling, adding some additional variable into the equation of travel plans. The greatest unknown variable was the identity of the contact they were going to meet. She typically had little problem concerning Red's contacts. The largest number of them were all well-natured, except for the moments where she wondered if they were going to make it out alive. Liz tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the action a habit she tried to break, as they got closer to the gate.

"Do you usually make flight arrangements the last minute?" she questioned.

Shrugging, he commented, "Plans change and things need to be moved forward. Yes, this flight was made the last minute."

She hummed to herself as a small smirk quirked at a corner of her mouth. She listened to bits of conversations, the words providing insights into the lives of the people around them. Liz personally took last minute flights out of plain necessity, the most recent occasion being Sam's funeral in Nebraska. The flight had been longer than she expected and she spent most of the flight feeling alone, even as Tom sat beside her in coach. Red and Liz paused at the gate, smiling softly as they passed their boarding passes to the attendant at the gate.

"Enjoy your flight with Delta Airlines," she greeted with a smile.

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><p>Liz leaned back against the seat and buckled the seat belt as Red sat beside her. He had assured her that Dembe wasn't far behind. "He checked a contact for me," he had explained. "He will join us during the layover in Chicago, Lizzie." She had felt better after hearing that Dembe was going to join them. She had grown close to him, knowing that he would protect her as well as Red. She drew herself from her thoughts and opened her backpack. Resting the bag on her lap, she pulled out her iPod and her copy of John Grisham's <em>The Rainmaker<em>.

"How long have you had that book, Lizzie?" Red asked.

She paused for a moment as she tried to remember when she had purchased the novel. "I bought it five or six years ago. Sam was going through a rough spot in his treatment and I took some time to go visit him. I got this from a bookstore that was near the hospital. I was surprised they still had it," she responded.

She watched as a wistful smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he offered, "No matter how busy Sam got, he always tried to put time aside for you."

Their conversation paused as the voice of the pilot and co-pilot sounded from the overhead speakers. Liz put one of her earphones in her ear as the pilot reminded them of the safety measures and the location of the exits in the event of a crash landing. The seats doubled as floatation devices; remember to keep your tray tables in the upright position until the plane takes off. Do not move about the cabin until the seat belt sign indicator is turned off and, please, do not heckle the stewards. She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she went to her songs and selected shuffle. Opening her book, she glanced over at Red to see him reaching into his own carry-on. A bag she hadn't seen, yet one fit his personality and appearance. The folder he removed was nondescript and blank, save for writing in black pen on the tab. Liz wanted to look and see what the folder contained but minded her own business.

"We have a decent flight ahead of us," he said as the plane began to taxi down the runway.

Liz gave a noncommittal hum before she responded, "I suppose this is the moment when you ask me about my day."

The chuckle Red responded with made Liz feel lighter and freer, a smile gracing her mouth as he countered, "No, but a time to ask you about your sleeping patterns."

Her expression faltered as she tried to bury her mind the pages of a book she had read multiple times. At the current point, she had the ability to quote the book verbatim, so there was very little cause for her to read it again. She swallowed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I fall asleep around 10:45 or 11:00 and I'm usually up by 6:45 or 7:15. Recently, I have had nightmares. It's always the fire, just as it has been for several years," she explained, feeling almost ashamed at her admittance.

She watched as he placed a comforting hand on her wrist and they fell into an almost comfortable silence. Liz pushed the small blind on the window up and looked at the runway as the speed of the plane increased. Turning her attention back to her book, she checked to see which song she was listening to before starting to read. The story that presented itself to her had struck a chord with her the first time she had read the back cover. She'd been aware of insurance companies denying claims, even in the case where a medical procedure saved a person's life, and was frightened that it would happen to Sam. Sam was the one person in her life that she dreaded losing. Her friends from Quantico and her colleagues from the task force were nothing compared to how deeply she worried for Sam. She was heartbroken to hear of his death, devastated to know that Red had killed him, yet she was thankful that he no longer suffered. Death existed as a double-edged sword and brought peace at the price of losing a loved one. Liz allowed these thoughts to occupy her mind as she read, remembering how she had Sam read to each other during the evenings with the radio playing softly in the background. She absentmindedly turned each page once she had finished reading it and a smile pulled up at the corners of her mouth.

"You are now free to move about the cabin."

Jolted out of reading by the pilot's voice, Liz breathed a sigh as she looked at Red. "I get so absorbed in what I read that I frequently lose track of time," she explained as a blush colored her cheeks.

The distinct sound of a cart rolling down the aisle reminded her that she hadn't had anything to eat since lunch, and she was nearly certain that Red hadn't eaten anything, either. "Excuse me, but what meals do you have?" Red asked, voicing the question that burned at the tip of Liz's tongue.

"We can prepare anything you like, sir," the younger woman offered with a smile.

Liz considered what she wanted before she asked, "Could I get chicken fettuccine alfredo with a glass of Merlot?"

The younger woman nodded and Red added, "Could I get Pad Thai and lumpia with sake?"

Liz looked at Red as a moderate expression of incredulity crossed her face. "Pad Thai? Really?"

Red shrugged and she chuckled as he turned his gaze to the in-flight movie. Satisfied with her own devices, Liz opened her book again and continued to read. Apprehension and excitement tugged at the back of her mind as she glanced out the window and faintly saw the lights above the cities as they flew overhead. Everything looked so small, and she was once again reminded how large the country was and the fact that she had visited only a small number of cities. _I want to change that before I lose the chance._

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><p>The hand at her back drew her closer to Red as they walked further into the thrumming activity of the concourse. The scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls assaulted her senses as she and Red paused near a set of benches. She hardly fought the tender smile that pulled up at the corners of her mouth as she saw Dembe approaching. People moved around them, shifting and re-forming in the same manner as a liquid. The flow of movement in the concourse had an order to it that matched the flow of water through a river. The subtle growling of her stomach reminded Liz that the meal she had eaten did little to satisfy her appetite. She glanced around, scoping out the area for faces that looked suspicious or familiar before leaning toward Red.<p>

"There's an Auntie Anne's at your nine o'clock. Would you like anything?" she asked, indicating the establishment in question.

The feeling of a warm and gentle hand on her shoulder caused her to laugh and Dembe responded, "I am not sure about Mr. Reddington, but the cinnamon and raisin pretzels are quite good."

Liz patted the back pocket of her pants and looked at Red. She waited for a moment and received a shake of the head before she made her way to the small stand. Auntie Anne's held a special place in Liz's memories, as her first taste of pretzel had come from one in the local mall. She had made a habit since then to get at least one pretzel from Auntie Anne's, regardless of their location. She patiently waited behind a family with a young girl before getting the chance to place her own order. The scent of cinnamon and sugar continue to assault her senses and making a decision was terribly easy at that moment.

"I'd like a cinnamon and raisin pretzel as well as a cinnamon sugar pretzel," she ordered.

The young man behind the cash register smiled and asked, "Is there anything else we can get for you? A drink, perhaps?"

Looking up at the menu, she considered ordering a drink. She knew that there was coffee and hot chocolate on the plane. "No, thank you," she responded. "Just the two pretzels."

She passed him the money that she had extracted from her wallet and accepted the two pretzels from the other young man before turning. She nearly walked into a larger gentleman, pausing right before they had the opportunity to collide. The man stopped and Liz looked up at blue eyes that so closely resembled her own. The moment ticked by as the man cleared his throat and walked past Liz, allowing her the chance to cross back to Red and Dembe. Concern was evident on Red's face as Liz handed Dembe his pretzel before taking a bite of her own.

"Did you know that man?" he asked as something other than concern framed his voice.

Liz finished chewing her bite of pretzel and she shook her head. "No," she admitted. "That was the first time I had ever seen him."

She shivered slightly as he stepped closer to her, shielding her body with his own. She closed her eyes for a single moment and inhaled the scent that wafted off Red. The mixture of his cologne and aftershave blended to create the unique scent she associated with this criminal that had wormed his way into her life. Taking another bite of her pizza, she found her thoughts wandering. Liz glanced down at her watch and relaxed slightly. There was still half an hour before they necessarily needed to be in their seats. She wanted to settle into the hotel room as quickly as possible and sleep, having neglected managing her sleep patterns for a considerable length of time. Nightmares plagued her sleep and urged her to wake up in the middle of the night. Then she spent time walking around her room, checking if anything was disturbed. She'd find nothing, as she always did, and fall back to sleep and resume the pattern again once she woke. Liz longed to free her mind of those thoughts as she took a larger bite of her pretzel.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she looked at Red and asked, "What is really so important about this Blacklister that we needed to take the most immediate flight?"

She watched as the muscles in his jaw tensed and loosened, noting the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. Deflection of questions formed the first defense in his repertoire, dodging any answers with moderately useful facts pertaining to the newest case. Liz patiently waited for an answer, or the lack thereof, taking another bite of her pretzel before balling the wrapping around the remaining piece. She felt Dembe tense and she momentarily wondered how far she had stepped over whatever boundaries that had formed.

"That is something you will learn in time, Lizzie," he explained.

Liz pushed a hand through her hair and gently moved past Red and Dembe to throw her trash into the trash can. She returned in a matter of seconds and glanced at her watch. She debated the length of time it took them to arrive at their location and she chewed on her lower lip in partial thought. Pushing her hands in the pockets of her jeans, she looked at them both. "Maybe we should head back to the plane?" she offered, not wanting to stay in the concourse longer than necessary.

She had moderately adjusted to feelings of uncertainty in her life. There were some moments when she preferred the uncertainty, liking the mystery involved. Then there were the days when she wanted things to establish the basest normalcy. She wanted to know exactly when she needed to wake up and go to work. She wanted to know that she was going to have someone waiting for her when she came back home, no matter how late at night or early in the morning she returned. She missed having the luxury of those years in college when the only responsibilities that existed were maintaining grades and not spending hours in the library.

"Yes, I do believe that is best," Red commented as he placed a hand squarely on Liz's back.

The three of them made their way back to the gate as Liz listened to the conversations around them. A myriad of languages and statements reached her ears as her profiling flared to life. The more confident and joyed a person, the happier they were about the trip. Several people were animated, gesturing with their hands in lieu of exchanging actual words. She tuned into the words shared between Red and Dembe and she wished that she understood. Ahead of them, the gate drew closer and closer and Liz breathed an audible sigh.

Impatience tugged at the back of her mind, an emotion hardly ever visible on her face, as she waited to get back onto the plane. She needed coffee or something similar. Maybe she needed to relax and lean her head against the plane window. Closing her eyes had a certain appeal, one that grew as she reflected on the remainder of their flight. She held her carry-on close to her body as they entered the tunnel that led to the plane. Liz put effort into organizing her thoughts and calming down, wondering how she would spend the last leg of the flight.

Finally sitting down, she buckled her seat belt and set her carry-on on her lap once more. She glanced over at Red and gave the barest of smiles in an effort to assure him that she was fine. "Try getting some rest," he suggested.

She draped her jacket over the front of her body, having left it at her seat, and leaned her head against the headrest. She glanced out at the lights of the city once more before closing her eyes and letting herself relax further.

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><p><em>"Thank you for flying Delta Airlines."<em>

Startled, Liz opened her eyes and looked around before sighing. She caught a fleeting glimpse of the smile that tugged at the corners of Red's mouth as he said, "I was going to wake you, Lizzie, but the co-pilot did that for me."

The retort she desperately wanted to use died on her tongue as she gasped. "We're in New York."

"Queens, to be precise," Red offered.

Liz rolled her eyes and pulled the window cover down before unbuckling her seat belt. The plane ride and subsequent layover took place in the back of her mind as possibilities overpowered her thoughts. There was one thought she allowed herself, one fleeting moment of unadulterated wanting after caring so much about what others wanted.

_Maybe this is going to aid me in finding my father_.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I hope to have this updated as soon as possible and I will endeavor to keep a pattern of updating every two weeks. As always, reviews are appreciated. I'd like to see what you guys are thinking of this so far and, if you have any suggestions, I would love to hear what you have to say.


	3. The Essex House

**A/N: **I apologize for the delay between this chapter and the others I have posted. I'm going to resume a regular posting schedule after today, or something close to that. As always, please enjoy this chapter and don't forget to leave a review or favorite this fic.

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><p>Her prior trips to Manhattan had included taking taxis and subways, even walking when her destination was within close proximity to her hotel. Liz had seen people taking town cars and once imagined riding around the city in a chauffeured vehicle. Events in her life led her from any semblance of a luxurious lifestyle and thrust her into a sphere of long days that she secretly adored Working meant that there was little time for her to wonder what direction her life could have taken if she had something near a normal childhood. Had it not been for the fire for that night responsible for irrevocably changing her life, the possibility that she'd have her father remained. The chance encounter with the man at O'Hare reentered her mind and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.<p>

"Are you alright, Lizzie?" Red asked.

The concern in his tone, unfettered and raw, tugged at her heart. She had only received such genuine concern from Sam. When Tom showed concern, it wavered from honest concern to feigned concern as their marriage and relationship wore on and wilted. She had questioned his lacking concern only at night as he slept beside her. Voicing her concerns, pointing out where he needed improvement, proved only to distance her former husband until he returned or she acquiesced and said she was at fault. His behavior had bothered her and she realized that talking to his friends only led him to defend Tome. Only when she discovered the truth about Tom, that he never existed, did everything fall into place. There was no single person in their mutual circle of friends that knew the truth about her ex-husband.

Liz shrugged softly and replied, "The man at the airport, the one I nearly collided with, had stunningly blue eyes. Lots of people do, but his were so piercing."

She was grasping at straws in an effort to distract herself from thoughts of Tom. She had wanted to start a family with the man, not knowing he had purposely ingratiated himself in her life. He needed to get to Red and only used her to further his own agent. Liz leaned back against the leather seat of the town car and glanced at Red. The muscles in his jaw tensed as he turned his head to look out the window. Sighing in moderate resignation, she closed her eyes and her thoughts wandered to scattered memories she longed to forget. Unadulterated heat clawed at her flshe and she quickly opened her eyes against the sudden barrage of sensations. She curled her fingers, the tips brushing against the top of her scar, before turning her gaze to look at the buildings as they passed.

"Have you ever searched for your father, Lizzie?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "Not here, Red. Soon, when we get to the hotel," she countered.

The tone of finality in her voice was surprising, holding a certainty that had remained foreign to the profiler. Her personal certainty in the identity of her father bordered on nothingness. Liz held fractured memories of a man pulling her from the flames of what she had assumed had been her home. Red's first words about her mother and father disturbed her, the intonation betraying a familiarity to the events. Shaking fingers settled on her lap as she once again focused on the city. The notion of finding her father had surged when she was in high school. Her last name wasn't Sam's own and she hardly shared any facial features with her adoptive father.

"I can assure you that this Blacklister is a different breed from the others," Red cautioned.

Liz quirked a brow and asked, "None of the Blacklisters were similar. How is this one different?"

Red removed his hand and rubbed the back of his head as he offered, "I knew him years ago. We've not had contact for 20 years."

"Now he's your next target," she mused. "What did he do to warrant this turn of events?"

The subtle turn of emotion on his face stunned Liz into silence. Her mouth opened, only to close as a look was trained on her. His green eyes bore into her own and betrayed glimpses into a shattered past. Tension crackled between them in the back of the car as neither relented in the silent exchange. Liz turned her attention from his eyes to the muscles working in his cheeks and tightening in his jaw. She's hit a nerve somewhere, yet finding out what she hit posed a different challenge.

Red cleared his throat, shattering the silence, and offered, "Our suite offers a magnificent view of Central Park. I'd suggest turning in shortly after we get settled in our rooms. The real work begins tomorrow, Lizzie."

The deflection was obvious in his tone, no matter how she welcomed the abrupt change in subject. Talking about cases and work allowed her a banter, a way of distancing her personal life from her cases. The barrier fell when she was with Red, and he found a way to blend her two worlds into one that she barely separated from her work. Her fingers found her scare once again as the delicate beginnings of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Familiar buildings rushed passed the tinted windows of the vehicle, streetlights illuminating the kaleidoscope of activity that called the city home. The allure of the city magnified the draw that surged within Liz at the prospect of the next Blacklister. _What's so different about this one? _

The motives of each Blacklist varied in degrees, defined by certain ideals. Moral guidance hardly factored in the drive for causing damage or gaining any form of notoriety. Very few cases impacted Liz, yet the few that did stayed with her during her sleepless nights. Her hand balled into a fist at the thought of the files she had stowed in her suitcase. Light reading did little to cover the possibility of insight contained in those printed pages.

"Lizzie, we're here," Red said from beside her.

His voice jolted her out of her musings and the smile that had taken residence on her lips returned. Liz unbuckled her seat belt and delicately took Dembe's hand as he helped her out of the car. The Essex House towered above them, illuminated by a multitude of lights that appeared to flicker against the light wind. Liz turned against the wind as the valet loaded their bags ionto a luggage cart. The growing presence of Red filled her with a minor semblance of protection. In some odd way, all Red had done is protect her. She'd called him a monster fwhen he saved her life through means she considered cruel. The warmth of his hand on her arm, seeping through her jacket, brought her attention to him. Liz smiled wider, the corners of her mouth titleing up, and offered, "I think we should get checked in."

The smile that quirked at Red's mouth nearly mirrored her own as they entered the Essex House. The spacious foyer welcomed them with plush couches and extravagant topiaries; two fireplaces on either side of the foyer providing warmth and a pleasing aesthetic. The smile that graced Liz's lips was ecstatic as she absorbed the engaging atmosphere.

"How may I help you this evening?" asked a receptionist.

Reacing into his coat, Red revealed a credit card and responded, "I have a reservation for two under the name Hammond."

Keys clicked as Liz settled into the loose hold Red had around her shoulder. She glanced around and saw couples mingling about, meandering through the lobby with seemingly minor objectives. She faintly imagined how much she'd have liked spending her time in large cities with pleasure and leisure existing as her only goals. Her own leisure was measured in reading books and queuing shows on Netflix to pass time.

"One bed has been made up with blankets and the other has a light comforter and sheets," the receptionist offered as he passed Red two room keys.

The turned, almost as one, and made their way to their suite without a backward glance.

* * *

><p>Liz set her bag down on the table in her bedroom and dragged a hand down her face. The events of the day, the encounter with the man at O'Hare and the remainder of the plane ride, blended in her mind. She unzipped her luggage and absently put her clothing in its respective locations. She inhaled the subtle fragrance of whatever spray were used before they arrived. Liz tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes fell on the two files. Crossing the room, she set the files on the table and pushed her bag to a chair. She tapped a finger on the newest file and breathed a shaky sigh. Liz looked at the clock and resigned that a fitful sleep was necessary. She undressed and pulled an old t-shirt over her head before approaching the bed. With one last look at the files, she climbed into bed and turned off the light.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The "** n**" will denote changes in perspective and characters, as you will see in the next few chapters. The plot will gain speed with this next chapter, but I do believe the next chapter will be short.


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